


Wow, That's Rude

by murakistags



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Hallucinations, Mindfuck, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakistags/pseuds/murakistags
Summary: After a long day of filming the television series "Hannibal," Mads and Hugh open the set door and somehow find themselves in Hannibal Lecter's ACTUAL Baltimore office...? They're totally just hallucinating. Or not.This work is exactly what it sounds like. Borderline crack, but not entirely. It's more of an elegant attempt at me maintaining the integrity of each person/character while trying to write something vaguely amusing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I...don't know how this work came about, but it did. It's an idea that's definitely been done before, but I just had to put my own little twist on it. It's been sitting unfinished on my computer for a while now and I finally managed to churn out an ending. I was intending for this to be more than one chapter, but I haven't a clue where to lead in the long-run. Just an idea, is all. I suppose if enough people like it, I'll continue on. Any and all feedback in the form of kudos or comments is greatly appreciated. In case this is absolutely terrible, allow me to apologize in advance.
> 
> Not beta-read. Apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Bon appétit.

"I'm exhausted," Hugh exhales deeply, in spite of the boyish smile on his face. His British accent rings out clear to the warm air as he strides over to meet up with his friend in the cramped indoor hallways of the huge Canadian warehouse bearing the Hannibal set.

 

"Me too. And hungry," Mads comments, bearing all of his sharp teeth in a grin. "Pizza and beer would be perfect right now."

 

"Totally," Hugh agrees, though that type of meal isn't his usual go-to. But it's no secret how much Mads enjoys beer, and pizza is a treat that Hugh hadn't eaten in months. He's definitely willing to roll with it. "We could do that. It's supposed to snow tonight. But I think if we get going soon we can catch an open shop, and then hightail it back to the hotel before the snow comes down."

 

Mads' hum of positive response comes from beneath the thickness of a dusty pink hoodie he's pulling over his head to wear against the inevitable chill outdoors. When his head pops up through the neck and he smooths down the pink garment over his torso, Hugh gets a good and friendly laugh with how messy the process has made Mads' hair. It was slicked back neatly like Hannibal one second, and now mussed beyond belief in the next. How endearing.

 

"Yeah, let's do it," Mads comments, leaving his hair a ruffled mess while bending down to first tie the laces of his boots. Hugh merely stands by with hands in his pockets and watches, casual and conversational as they always are with one another.

 

There with one another, they both look quite the opposite, and also the opposite of their characters. Mads wears a pink-colored hoodie sweater (including a rather startling "Rosé Over Bitches" emblazoned across the arms and torso in large white font-- it was borrowed from a friend), black cargo pants, and brown lace boots. Hugh wears a simple white button-down, a navy leather jacket over it, a plaid scarf draped around his neck, grey slacks, and simple black loafers.

 

"What is it?" Hugh asks suddenly, watching Mads smooth out his hair and then promptly begin patting down each of the many pockets of his cargo pants. "Are you looking for something?"

 

"Yeah, my cell phone." Mads feels there's a pack of cigarettes in one pocket, a lighter in another, but nothing else in any other pocket. He purses lips and shrugs, looks up at Hugh. "Must've left it on set when we were shooting. I'll just go grab it and then we can leave."

 

"I'll come with you, and help you look," Hugh offers with a smile.

 

"Thanks," Mads nods and leads them both off down the nearest hall, a short walk to the opening of the main warehouse center itself, an humongous open room with individual little settings within. "I never forget my phone, I usually don't even keep it with me when we're filming."

 

"Really?" Hugh blinks, striding alongside Mads as they cross the quiet, large space towards the set of Hannibal's office.

 

"There's no place to really put it in the three-piece."

 

"Oh, that's right. Will's outfits are so casual I can always put my mobile in my pocket and it's just fine."

 

"If I put mine in the suit pocket, it shows on camera. I don't think Bryan's too fond of that."

 

"Fair enough," Hugh says, following Mads right up to the main entrance door to Hannibal's office.

 

The door is like any other, leading to a quaint waiting room with pictures up and chairs against the walls, also part of the set. Beyond that is a second door, the inner one that directly leads into the main room of Hannibal's office. Mads leads them through without hesitation, knowing that the crew had already packed up for the day and most likely left the set silent and dim. It should only take him a moment to look for his cell phone, and then they'll be off for a relaxing evening of beer, pizza, and some well-earned rest.

 

"The set is a bit unnerving at night like this, when it's so dark, isn't it?" Hugh says casually, right behind Mads as they open the inner door to the office.

 

Mads looks back over his shoulder briefly to answer with a snort and an amused, accented tone. "Yeah. Like you blink and the actual Hannibal Lecter--"

 

Mads doesn't even get to finish his sentence, for when he steps into the office, the place is not dim but instead lit warmly. There's a fire going in the hearth, the entire space warm with golden lighting, and looking well and proper neat...nothing at all like the whirlwind of movement during filming. It looks _real_.

 

And lo and behold, as the name dies on his lips, he turns his head, mouth agape, to see the suit-clad figure sitting behind his desk. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, in all of his brown and gold, three-piece, double-windsor paisley, slicked hair glory, is sitting right there with a pen in hand, a notebook open on the polished desk surface. At the sudden intrusion, Hannibal lifts his head and promptly looks taken aback, staring at a man who looks very much like him.

 

Meanwhile, Hugh just behind Mads cannot see past into the space, and finds himself accidentally running flush into Mads' back with a quiet 'oof.' Mads has stopped short in shock, but Hugh doesn't understand why just yet.

 

"Mads?" He speaks up, his British accent strong as he attempts to peek past the stagnant man in the doorway. "What's the matter?"

 

Eventually he just pushes past against the door frame and emerges inside the office. He too is immediately struck with surprise at the warmth to the space, but it still takes Hugh a good moment to process the man at the desk.

 

"You look like you've seen a gho-- oooh my god, _Hannibal_ \--" Hugh goes from teasing Mads to breathless in a split second, his jaw too going quite slack.

 

Hannibal is efficiently silent, merely watching in a shock of his own. He doesn't need to say a word to glean reactions from these two men who strangely look like both he and Will Graham. As confused and wary as he might be, he can see that by immediate recognition of his name, these two seem to _really_ be the more fearful ones.

 

"This isn't real," Mads says, unable to stop gaping or staring at Hannibal from where he stands still as a statue.

 

Hugh answers that as well, tilting his head only mildly towards Mads as he too stares in utter shock at Hannibal across the room. "This is definitely not real," his British accent is hushed.

 

Hannibal is dead silent and still, watching the exchange between the two men who apparently seem to think he is a figment of their imaginations. No, Hannibal most assuredly reminds himself, he is very real. The pen in his hand is real, the paper beneath his fingertips is real, and the dull throbbing at the back of his skull after a long day at the office is also very real. In Hannibal's mind, _he_ is thinking it's some sort of joke himself.

 

"...Hugh, is this a prank? Did someone of the crew do this?"

 

"They must be filming this right now. As a joke."

 

"Yeah, that has to be it. ...I feel like I'm hallucinating."

 

"Mads, that's _my_ job. Or _Will's_ job, more accurately."

 

"By that token, I should be Hannibal. But he's sitting _right there_."

 

"He's not sitting right there. It's a mannequin. A very realistic one, actually."

 

"Or someone dressed up as me, right? That's not me, _I'm_ me."

 

"Yes, Mads, you are you. This is a prank, it has to be. ...It's not a very funny one, if I'm to be honest."

 

"I feel mildly terrified. He looks very real."

 

"He can't be real. He isn't even moving a muscle."

 

"That's true. But it's more than a bit mortifying to be face to face with your own character, Hugh."

 

"I'd rather we bumped into a fake Will. Even better would be if they put Garrett Jacob Hobbs in that chair."

 

"But he's dead."

 

"That's why it would be more horrifying."

 

"At least we would be safe with Garrett Jacob Hobbs there instead."

 

"We would be safe with Will, too."

 

"Oh, come on, Hugh. Will isn't innocent."

 

"...Would you rather take your chances being locked in a room with Will, or with Hannibal?"

 

"...I'm biased, but I'd honestly have to think about that answer."

 

"Mads! Hannibal is _terrifying_!"

 

"Wow, that's rude. Whenever feasible, one should always--"

 

"Okay, enough. Now you're starting to actually sound like him."

 

"What? It was a _joke_. Just like all of this. Whoever's filming this probably wants us to play along...right--?"

 

Finally, after the few minutes of incessant banter, his own existence and character being called into question by these two men who apparently know him and Will Graham so well, Hannibal finally moves again. He breaks his keen and unmoving stare and posture, shifting in his seat and drawing a deep breath. He caps and neatly places down his fountain pen atop the journal he suddenly slams closed. Those minor movements alone snap Mads and Hugh to attention, both of them looking horrified anew in spite of having calmed in the past minute or so, still convinced this is some elaborate hoax.

 

"...Hugh? Did you see that? He moved."

 

"I saw that. He did move."

 

"You said this wasn't real. This is a prank, yes? But he still looks very real to me."

 

"Maybe that's a part of the prank. They hired someone who looks just like you."

 

"...I think I look pretty unique, Hugh. Where would they find someone like this on such short notice?"

 

"Makeup does wonders, too."

 

"Makeup or not, this is a little too creepy for comfort. This is borderline existential crisis."

 

"..No, you're just fine. This is just a--"

 

Hannibal suddenly stands from his seat and interrupts the banter before it can evolve into a long-winded minute as it previously did. His voice is prim and proper as most always, and when he stands to his full and lean height with purpose, hands coming forth to button his suit jacket neatly back into place, Mads and Hugh noticeably shrink back where they stand in the doorway. Hannibal himself is rather confused, not entirely convinced he himself isn't making all of this up in his mind, but for now he endeavors to ignore the two looks akin to gaping goldfish that are directed towards him.

 

"I am very much real, and very much here," Hannibal says, pushing in his desk chair and tilting his head just a fraction as he observes the two other men closely. "Though I am equally curious as to who you both are, and how it is that you seem to know not only me, but also Will Graham."

 

Hugh and Mads are speechless. Utterly speechless. Either this man is a world-class top-notch actor, or they are both talking to the _actual_ Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Neither of them can come up with anything coherent to say, too thrilled by fear and confusion and excitement to really speak up.

 

Eventually, Mads manages a voice, gesturing with a hand to his apparent doppelganger. He's beginning to think this might actually be very, very real. "You are...Dr. Hannibal Lecter?"

 

"Yes," Hannibal answers simply, brow mildly quirking to accommodate curiosity of where this is leading.

 

"The psychiatrist?"

 

"Yes."

 

Mads points to a silent Hugh by his side.  "Right. ..And who does _he_ look like, to you?"

 

"...Special Agent Will Graham." Hannibal could argue that though they look alike, they aren't exactly the same. None of them are who they would usually appear to be, in the eyes of one another. This pink-sweatered version of him is unbecoming, and since when did Will have a British accent and such a style? Nothing about this is comforting.

 

Hugh decides to jump in, and perhaps that adds fuel to the tense, proverbial fire smoldering the room all the same. "Well, technically, I _am_ Will Graham, so--"

 

Mads nudges him _hard_ in the ribs, and Hugh recoils with a wince but doesn't understand why. Best to get everything out in the open and call off this stupid prank, right? Mads can't seriously think this is real...right? _Right_? But apparently neither of them are willing to take any chances right now, no matter how befuddled Hannibal looks in that moment. This British man _is_ Will Graham? What does any of this even mean?

 

It's a total and complete _mindfuck_ , for the lack of better terminology.

 

"Will Graham is at home," Hannibal states, firmly. "And you are most definitely not him." ...In spite of them smelling vaguely very similar, looking similar.

 

"Yeah, well...but you _actually_ look like Hannibal Lecter," Hugh blinks, a hand absentmindedly rubbing his side where Mads had just jabbed him with an elbow.

 

"I _am_ Hannibal Lecter. You are apparently Hugh," Hannibal says, licking his lips and mentally reminding himself to be patient and calm and figure all of this out. There is surely an explanation for all of this nonsense. He turns his head, glancing over at the messy-haired Dane. "And you are apparently Mads, one who strangely bears a resemblance to me."

 

It's almost Mads turn to be defensive now and try to speak up and say that he merely portrays Hannibal as a character, but this actual Hannibal has other plans. On his well-polished shoes, the doctor takes a handful of steps forward, intimidating even though he and Mads share the same height also very similar to that of Hugh.

 

"Mads--"

 

"What if he has a scalpel--?"

 

"This can't be real--"

 

"Are we really taking this chance right now--?"

 

"We have to--"

 

"Run--"

 

"Yes--!"

 

"Apologies, Dr. Lecter! _Bye_!"

 

The two actors had been inching towards the door, all but clinging to one another for dear life as Hannibal creeps closer in a measured and controlled stride. But when Hannibal had begun to get too close, Mads quickly stepped up to bat and had all but screamed an apology. With that, and very little dignified flourish at all, Mads wrenched the door closed with a loud slam, and sends both he and Hugh flying and sprawled onto the floor of the waiting room outside of the office. With two grunts of pain on collision with one another and the floor, they are both breathing heavily thereafter and scrambling to their feet like their lives truly do depend on it. In the backs of their minds, both Hugh and Mads perhaps know better than to allow such an irrational, fake fear get to them, but this seems _too_ real for safety.

 

Mads likewise wrenches open the door to the outside of the set. Instead of the warm inside of warehouse before them, the door is opened to a wintery scene, frigid air bellowing in immediately. There's a porch, a walkway, a busting road beyond that, more buildings around them and opposite on the street, and it makes both men freeze in utter shock right there in the doorway.

 

"No way..." Mads exhales in disbelief, breathless from the scuffle and awed at the sight before him.

 

"This can't be..." Hugh also joins him in a long and low exhale of shock, mouth agape at what he is seeing before him.

 

The winter air slams into their faces and begins to rub uncomfortably raw at their skin, ensuring them both that they are awake, alert, and _this is very real_. This is Baltimore, Maryland, and they are undoubtedly in the office of the world's most infamous and uncaptured cannibalistic serial killer physician, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

 

At this point, Mads and Hugh are both lost in their own little dazes of confusion and fear, anxieties bubbling up faster than they can hyperventilate. But neither of the men have much time to think, for Hannibal is already about to join them from inside. Standing in the doorway to the porch as little tufts of falling snow trickle into the lobby of the office, Hugh and Mads whip themselves around to look behind when the inner door opens. In that doorway stands Hannibal just as real and animated as before, in his suit, and looking less than pleased with the circumstances.

 

Hannibal can tell immediately that neither of the two strange men are going to run off into the snow and try to escape, for in their eyes now, beneath all the shock and horror, is a genuine sliver of curiosity. He deftly plays on that and etches a tired smile onto his lips, stepping back with hand on the doorknob with a gesture to urge them back inside the office itself.

 

Hannibal states politely, putting aside all reservations for now, and allowing his own curiosities to mesh with those of Hugh and Mads:

 

"It's very cold outside this evening. Please, come in."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, don't forget to leave kudos and comments. They inspire me and make me smile.
> 
> Please consider [buying me a coffee for a fic](https://ko-fi.com/murakistags)!


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